For You
by Curt Kenobi
Summary: CA. PWP. Arthur goes in search of Curt, who's working on a present for Arthur, for a start....


**Title:** For You  
**Author:** Curt Kenobi  
**Rating:** strong M  
**Summary:** Arthur awakes alone and goes in search of Curt, who happens to be working on a present for Arthur, for a start.  
**Genre:** PWP  
**Warning:** Since it's _VG_, it is slash. (C/A) Language, and sex.  
**Disclaimer: **Haynes still owns the boys and _VG._ I just play in the glitter haze every now and then.  
**A/N:** I've never really done this before (no angsting! oh no!), so hopefully it's not too horrible, and: Originally, this was for Wyndmir, and now I'm sharing the C/A lovin'.  
Lyric in the break is from "Your Song" by Elton John.

* * *

_----m-y---g-i-f-t---i-s---m-y---s-o-n-g---a-n-d---t-h-i-s---o-n-e-'s---f-o-r---y-o-u----_

* * *

Arthur Stuart awoke alone in bed. As he stretched, he stopped suddenly mid-motion at the realisation. 

_He was alone in bed._

He _never_ woke up alone. Ever since he had decided to run after the enigmatic, problematic Curt Wild two years ago after they met again by chance in a bar after a Tommy Stone concert, Arthur had never woken alone in bed. Curt was always there, typically one leaden-feeling arm thrown across Arthur's chest, and an equally sleep-heavy leg entangled with his. His head would be pillowed on Arthur's shoulder or chest, blond hair fanned out of its own accord – usually under Arthur's nose, to tickle him awake.

But not today. Arthur glanced – simultaneously trying to shove down his panic – at the red glare of the digital clock's numbers. It was just after midnight. Damn, his schedule had been so off-kilter of late. He didn't even remember when it had become like that. Curt was a night owl by nature, but he had settled in – somewhat – to Arthur's schedule after about six months. Which meant by midnight on an early night or almost two on a late one, they would be in bed.

But Curt wasn't.

Yawning, mind racing, Arthur got out of bed and went on a search for his wayward lover. As he padded barefoot, mentally cursing the chill linoleum floors, he thought he heard music. The plucking of a guitar, the same little riff and melody picked over and again, as if in practise. It was quite faint, and had the air not been completely still for that one moment and he not straining to catch any indication of Curt's location, Arthur might not have heard it otherwise.

"Curt?" he called. Their new apartment together was bigger than Arthur's old one, so there were more places for Curt to disappear to. Not to mention that Curt enjoyed slipping out the window and up the fire escape to the rooftop. He had like his own little niche carved out up there.

On a rather good hunch, Arthur set to checking the spare room that doubled as an office for himself and a studio of sorts – basically just a spot where Curt's music equipment and a recorder and stuff were set up for him to fuck about with – for Curt.

The window was thrown open. Arthur inwardly groaned. He was up on the bloody roof again, in the cold and Arthur was going to have to get him. Without thinking, Arthur had already half-climbed out the window in nothing but his boxers, undershirt and housecoat. The chill air lashed at him and he quickly jumped back inside.

"Fuck." He tried again after running to the bedroom and hastily putting on his jeans and his sneakers without socks. The music was clearer now, though half-lost within the wind. Soft. Arthur stopped his ascension for a moment to just listen. Curt had a beautiful voice when he wasn't trying so hard. It was rich and…it just warmed Arthur inside and out and made him melt. The dark but classy timbre and roughness sent shivers tingling down his spine. He tried to make out the words but couldn't, what with the wind and how Curt seemed to not exactly be singing, just messing about.

He came over the parapet of the roof. There was Curt, sitting on a beanbag chair that he'd somehow managed to get up there, Fender in hand, a notebook open beside him with his pen across it. Something new, then? Arthur couldn't help his smile. Curt had said that he didn't think he'd play again, not with how everything had gone.

"Curt." The blond head snapped up at the soft greeting and a hand still gripping the marbleised black pick darted out to grab the notebook.

"Hey," Curt said, noticeably calming when the fact it was only Arthur sank in. He placed his guitar off to the side to hold the notebook in his lap. "What're ya doin' up, babe?"

"Wondering where the hell you went, love," replied Arthur with a slight grin, moving to sit across from Curt. "Kind of gotten used to being pinned down while I try to sleep. Can't stay asleep without it anymore." He nodded at the notebook Curt was trying to covertly keep hidden. "What're you working on there?"

"New song." The answer was mumbled and Curt looked down at the notebook he had between his hands, fingers splaying out to lightly trace over written words. _Hm._ But Curt was obviously not going to give up details easily. Nothing new to Arthur, really. He still barely knew anything about Curt beyond what the people he had interviewed when trying to discover what ever became of Brian Slade had mentioned about the troubled singer. He'd his own observations, of course, after two years. But he still didn't exactly _know_ Curt. But he was satisfied. Curt was Curt. And if that meant he lived the rest of his life with the man and never learned anything about his past from him, Arthur could die a happy – if still wondering – man.

Arthur picked up a beer out of the small Igloo cooler. Popped the lid. "Thought you said you weren't doing music anymore," he commented as he took a swig.

"Said there wasn't any _reason_ for me to," Curt said tightly. _Maybe I _would_ like to know more about him,_ Arthur amended. He was a bit lost. When Curt decided that he didn't want anything to do with something anymore, he was strict in it. He had had his music gear set up since they moved in and Arthur had never seen him honestly play that much. Sometimes he screwed about with old songs if he was really bored, other times he tabbed out songs in his head to things he had heard on the radio, which he didn't much care for. But he had never shown any modicum of desire towards something _new_.

"So you're sayin' that you've a reason now, eh?"

Curt visibly had to extinguish his frustration. Silver eyes looked up from beneath the curtain of pale bleached-blond hair. "What, Arthur? What is it? 'Cause it's somethin'. What do you want from me?"  
Arthur didn't like how this was going. He didn't want it to turn into an argument. He just wanted some insight, freely given – not coaxed or demanded – into Curt's own little world. _Why now? What was it?_ "I just wanted to know why."

Curt picked up his own beer and looked up, meditating on the night sky. Arthur could see his tension, eloquently outlined in his wiry frame. He quietly simmered for a long moment, and Arthur waited apprehensively.

"It was supposed to be a damned _surprise,_ Arthur. Can't I do that for you?"

Arthur's eyes went wide, and in that moment, Curt saw just how high the boy – for Curt would always think of him as "the boy" – ranked himself in Curt's world: not very. Which sort of smacked him, because Arthur _was_ his world, now. Curt Wild was one sick, fucked up, lost little puppy and Arthur _cared_ for – not pitied – him. Sometimes he would fuck up. He always would. But somehow, Arthur's overwrought heart could forgive him. He was grateful for that. All he had known his entire life was being shunned for being a fuck-up. But Arthur didn't shun him. He got exasperated, frustrated – sometimes out-rightly pissed off. But then he let Curt have that second chance. Which no one would ever understand how that made him feel. Of course he felt like an asshole when he let Arthur down. Of course he thought Arthur deserved and needed much better than a has-been spaz of a broken former rockstar. But here they were.

"I –" Arthur stopped his stuttering when he saw Curt close his eyes and draw in a deep breath. Was he that annoying? As if he had heard the thought, Curt looked over at him, hand reaching out so his thumb could idly rub Arthur's jaw. Arthur took the hand and held it in his own.

"I wanted something special for you. And I'm shit at gift-buying. I thought…I thought maybe I might get something right from the only thing I've ever been a bit good at that wasn't destructive." He looked away. Arthur stood, Curt's hand still trapped between his, and tugged. Curt shot him a quizzical look, but then complied, getting to his feet, dropping the notebook – closed – down onto the beanbag.

"I shouldn't have pushed you like that," Arthur said, hands taking up an accustomed spot on Curt's hips.

"No," Curt said quickly, vehemently. Arthur looked up in surprise. "It's me, Arthur. I know it. Don't apologise. Ever. You…"Curt looked away. It pained Arthur to see how honestly broken Curt was. He'd never be right, but Arthur could never not love him, regardless. Even when he had spent so long trying to push the memories away, there had always been Curt, standing there, smiling, laughing, eyes sparking like multi-tonal gemstones. "First love, only love," as it was said.

"How about we agree to drop this now, eh?" he suggested. They had stepped in close to each other, bodies touching, and Curt had dropped his head to Arthur's shoulder. He nodded in agreement.

"Come back to bed with me," Arthur said. Curt kissed his neck, feeling the responsive shiver travel through Arthur. He smiled.

"Yes."

So, reluctantly relinquishing their close embrace – and the warmth of it – the both headed back down the fire escape after Curt had set his stuff to rights – pick slid under the strings, guitar back in the gig bag, notebook tucked into the front pocket along with the amp cord – "Curt, c'mon. I'm bloody freezing!" Arthur had griped, only half-heartedly, because truthfully, he found Curt's quirk of meticulousness with his music gear kind of cute.

"Well, I guess that means we warm you up when we get back to bed, huh?" Curt had whispered as he walked past Arthur to descend the ladder first. Arthur shivered again, forgetting momentarily about being cold.

But bed felt so wonderful after the cold harshness of the roof that Arthur honestly would have been content to just sink down into the bed with Curt possessively curled about him, and been done with it. But while he was relaxing into the bed, and Curt did have and arm and leg thrown possessively across him, Arthur's mind was distracted from thoughts of sleep. Curt's kisses and little bites to ear, jaw line and neck had a tendency to do that quite effectively.

"Warmer?" Curt asked, voice already rougher, as he rolled on top of Arthur and the younger man's eyes fluttered closed and he sighed, almost a moan. Curt caught his mouth in a kiss before he could answer.

"Uh-unh," he finally replied, as they broke apart for a brief breath, and then Arthur initiated the second kiss. Of course he _was_ considerably warmer – just with the comforter pulled over them and Curt's warm, solid body on him – not to mention Curt's hot mouth and tongue sharing their fire – did that. But he was partly afraid that, just to be a fucking teasing ass, Curt would stop if he said yes.

"Can't have that," Curt said, migrating from Arthur's mouth down his chin to his neck as his hands slid between them to undo the button of the jeans Arthur had forgotten to take off before jumping into bed. Arthur's hands pushed up Curt's shirt, stopping when the older man jumped and let a little yelp.

"Fuck! Arthur! What the hell – your hands are like fuckin' ice-blocks!"

"Told you I was still cold," Arthur smirked, pressing his hands flat against Curt's stomach. The muscles jumped and tensed in response, initially, but then the temperatures evened out, and Curt relaxed, going back to his self-appointed task of getting Arthur's pants off without moving off of him as Arthur returned to trying to divest Curt of his shirt. He honestly wished it was a button-down – _Ha!_ he chided himself. It would be one cold-ass day in Hell before Curt ever wore one – so he wouldn't have to have Curt's hot mouth part from his skin for even a fleeting moment. He pulled the shirt over Curt's head quickly as Curt yanked Arthur's own white T-shirt up and over the boy's head to be tossed back behind him to land who knew where. Curt smiled, growling in his throat with pleasure and started kissing down Arthur's bare chest. The boy's hands came up to grasp handfuls of the moonbeams of Curt's long hair, clenching as a tongue like a flame licked about a nipple.

"Warm yet?"

Arthur was starting to writhe beneath him. "Curt…"

"_Warm_ yet?" Curt bit and made a hickey upon the soft juncture of shoulder and neck, the mark dark red against Arthur's fair skin. He relished the gasp and moan he received in response.

"No…" Arthur whimpered, still afraid of Curt stopping.

"I think you might be," Curt smiled, alternately nuzzling and nibbling down Arthur's soft stomach. Arthur fingers clenched spasmodically in Curt's hair.

"What…what were you working on up there?" Arthur asked, trying to distract himself and hopefully keep Curt from deciding to indulge in that little nefarious sadistic teasing streak he had.

"A song," Curt murmured vaguely, kissing the skin above Arthur's waistband.

"Wh – what about?" Arthur said, willing his hips not to buck against Curt, trying to keep himself in control. He froze as he felt Curt's head duck down more. The former rockstar took the zipper between his teeth and pulled down. "_Fuck_, Curt," he said breathlessly.

"It was for you, that song," Curt said, hands grasping the sides of Arthur's blue jeans as his teeth took the waistband of Arthur's pale plaid boxers, pulling them down to follow the jeans.

"Yea – yeah?" Arthur whimpered.

"Um-hmm. Ballad of Undying Love and that like," Curt continued on, leaving underwear and denim about Arthur's knees, restraining him, slowly coming back up, kissing and nibbling up the trembling thighs. Curt thought Arthur's uninhibited moans were the perfect complement to the lyrics running through his mind – the words he had written in his notebook. This beautiful face and body had been in his mind, moments like this on a continuous loop, all that was needed to get inspiration flow from his hands, make a song as amazing as Arthur. He hadn't written in so long, but Arthur was the perfect reason. _It's all for you. All for you. You've given me so much, let me repay you, just a bit._

Arthur's groan of bliss as Curt's hot mouth enveloped him resounded in the still of the room. Arthur's nails skated across Curt's pale shoulders, digging in for a moment, then coming back up to tug fistfuls of hair. All conversation from that point was nothing but groans and moans and panting, finally punctuated by a harsh shout of, "_Curt!_" as Arthur came, shuddering in ecstasy. Curt took it all, pulling away finally, gleaming blue-silver eyes looking up at him through damp, dishevelled hair, pink tongue darting out to lick the remnants of Arthur's pleasure from his lips, swiping the bit from his chin with the back of his hand. He came up to lay full-length against Arthur's side. Tenderly, he pushed the damp, limp dark locks of hair back from Arthur's flushed face, sweeping forward to kiss the rosy mouth. Arthur rolled so he was chest to chest with Curt, his arms coming around the older man, sliding beneath the wiry arms, fingers playing in the unkempt hair, then sliding back down to undo Curt's black leather trousers and push them down.

"I don't know why you insist on wearing these damned things," Arthur griped, nipping Curt's bottom lip.

Curt chuckled. "I do it just to frustrate the hell outta you. It's a turn-on – you all hot and bothered and not able to get my damned pants off fast enough."

"No shit," Arthur said. The damned fabric fit Curt like a second fucking skin. "Help me out." So together, they got the pants off of Curt. During the struggle, Curt became the bottom with Arthur over him. He looked up, smiling as Arthur yanked the pants over Curt's feet and tossed them triumphantly behind him. He braced his hands on either side of Curt's head and looked down at him, the smile he was welcomed with contagious. Curt's mirth sobered some as he framed Arthur's face in his hands.

"Babe, you are the moon and the stars, everything above and below. For you are all my world, I hope you know."

Arthur's smile widened, with a bit of puzzlement thrown into the expression. He nuzzled against Curt's neck, grinding his hips against Curt's. He delighted in watching the silver eyes roll back for a moment as an earthy groan escaped Curt's lips.

"What's that?" Arthur whispered, his voice hot in Curt's ear.

"Fucking tease." Curt took a steadying breath, only to have Arthur repeat the action, making Curt dig his nails into the boy's shoulders. "It's from that damned surprise I had had for you," Curt replied.

Arthur smiled. "Let me in you," he quietly entreated, pressing a tender kiss against Curt's neck, then descending down the column of his throat, down to leave little marks along shoulder and chest, to cover a nipple and suck and nip at it, the other occupied by a teasing hand.

"P –" Curt bit off the word. He didn't beg. Ever. He was Curt Wild. It wasn't – Fuck, if he didn't get touched where it _counted_ soon, he was gonna flip. "_Arthur…_"

"Yes?" Arthur said, his mouth switching places with his hand, other hand tracing lazy, teasing whorls against Curt's stomach. "What?"

"Please."

Arthur moved his free hand from Curt's stomach, looking up at Curt as he slickened two fingers by sticking them in his mouth. He removed them and slid his hand beneath Curt, fingers teasing his entrance.

"Please," Arthur said, but not just repeating the word, asking it himself.

"Yes," Curt said, to both counts. _Yes, please take me. Yes, I am begging._

"I love you," Arthur said. He spent far too long with just his fingers and Curt finally pinched him, hard.

"Ouch! What the fuck?"

Curt smiled. "You plan to fuck me sometime this year?"

Arthur smiled sardonically. "No," he said, just for spite. "I'm just doin' this to frustrate the hell outta you. You know it's a turn-on, you all hot and bothered and all but begging."

"Smartass." Curt rolled away. "Fine then."

Arthur spooned up behind him, half-laying on top of him. Curt wasn't in a huff – he was trying to coerce Arthur into doing as he wanted.

"I know what you're doing," he whispered in Curt's ear, curling the long blond hair back behind it.

"Do you?"

"Trying to get me to do what you want." And with that assertion, so Arthur did.

Curt's groan was…amazing, and Arthur's own was the same, intertwining with his lover's.

"Move," Curt pleaded. His hands gripped the sheets convulsively – once, twice, then stilled, instead smoothing over the fabric, trying to be in control, knowing that his reign over himself was tenuous. Arthur's hands slid over Curt's hot skin, across his sides, then one slipping up to grasp his shoulder, the other following around his hip to slid even further and wrap around his cock, and stroke.

Curt moved back against Arthur, and the rhythm became set, slow and moving.

"What else was in that song?" Arthur whispered breathlessly, his cheek against Curt's shoulder blade.

"Years come, my days in a haze. Until you, my everything. For you… For you, time stands still." Curt panted the words out at length. Their conversation lulled for a while, nothing but the sounds of their love-making filling the air.

With another beautiful, from-the-soul groan, Arthur's name intermixed with it, Curt came. Arthur followed moments later and, blissfully sated, they collapsed upon the bed, ending up entangled with each other, but as comfortable as they had ever been. Arthur had his head pillowed upon Curt's shoulder, an arm behind his lover's back. Curt had his arms around Arthur. Their legs were twined about each other. Inseparable.

"Warm?" Curt asked.

"Um-hmm. I am now.… What was that first line that you said, from your song?" Arthur asked, free hand stroking Curt's stomach. Curt petted his hair.

"Babe, you are the moon and the stars," Curt recited, "everything above and below. For you are all my world, I hope you know."

Arthur smiled, snuggling against him. "I'm your world?"

"I'd think that you'd realise that," Curt said, still feeling a bit of sorrow at the fact he wasn't sure that Arthur _did_ realise it.

The dark head rose, and tenderly initiated a deep kiss. Finally, they broke apart, Arthur returning to his protected position.

"I know," he said. And Curt's heart brightened. "So what's the title of this number one hit?"

"It's supposed to be a surprise."

"It's Christmastime – and telling me the title won't spoil it. You've still got to perform it for me, you know," Arthur said matter-of-factly.

"Only for you," Curt said, shaking his head in amusement. He didn't understand Christmas. Never really had – on a personal level, because he understood the points and basics of it. Just hadn't ever known it himself. Not even with Brian.

But this. This was simple. This was together. This was how it was supposed to be.

"The title is 'For You' – fitting?"

"Very much so." Arthur yawned and pulled the comforter up over them both. "_Now_ I can sleep."

They were quiet, then. Nothing but the sounds of their soft breathing and their synchronised heartbeats. Then, as he was drifting off, Arthur heard Curt say softly:

"For you have my heart, my body and soul. For you are my only…. I love you, Arthur."

And he drifted off with a smile, for those last four words were rare, and he cherished them, that they were for him.

_-Fin-_


End file.
